DOGTOWN  COMMON 


PERCY   MACKAYE 


UC-NRLF 


B    3 


ALVMNVS  BOOK  FYND 


WORKS  BY  PERCY  MACKAYE 


PLAYS       THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS.     A  Comedy. 

JEANNE  o'Auc.     A  Tragedy. 
SAPPHO  AND  PHAON.     A  Tragedy. 
FENRIS,  THE  WOLF.     A  Tragedy. 
A  GARLAND  TO  SYLVIA.     A  Dramatic  Reverie. 
THE  SCARECROW.     A  Tragedy  of  the  Ludicrous. 
YANKEE  FANTASIES.     Five  One-Act  Plays. 
MATER.     An  American  Study  in  Comedy. 
ANTI-MATRIMONY.     A  Satirical  Comedy. 
TO-MORROW.     A  Play  in  Three  Acts. 
A  THOUSAND  YEARS  AGO.     A  Romance  of  the  Orient. 
WASHINGTON.     A  Ballad  Play. 

COMMUNITY      CALIBAN.     A  Community  Masque. 
DRAMAS  SAINT  Louis.     A  Civic  Masque. 

SANCTUARY.     A  Bird  Masque. 

THE  NEW  CITIZENSHIP.     A  Civic  Ritual. 

THE  EVERGREEN  TREE.     A  Christmas  Masque. 

THE  ROLL  CALL.     A  Masque  of  the  Red  Cross. 

THE  WILL  OF  SONG  (with  Harry  Barnhart). 

THE  PILGRIM  AND  THE  BOOK.    A  Dramatic  Service. 

OPERAS      SINBAD,  THE  SAILOR.     A  Fantasy. 

THE  IMMIGRANTS.    A  Tragedy. 
THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS.     A  Comedy. 
RIP  VAN  WINKLE.     A  Legend. 

POEMS      THE  SISTINE  EVE,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

URIEL,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 
LINCOLN.    A  Centenary  Ode. 
THE  PRESENT  HOUR.     Poems  of  War  and  Peace. 
POEMS  AND  PLAYS.     In  Two  Volumes. 
DOGTOWN  COMMON. 

ESSAYS      THE  PLAYHOUSE  AND  THE  PLAY. 

THE  Civic  THEATRE. 
A  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  WAR. 
COMMUNITY  DRAMA.     An  Interpretation. 

ALSO   (As  Editor") 
THE  CANTERBURY   TALES.    A  Modern  Rendering 

into  Prose. 

THE  MODERN  READER'S  CHAUCER  (with  Professor 
J.  S.  P.  Tatlock). 


DOGTOWN  COMMON 


v>— 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  !      v 
DALLAS  •  ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •   BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


DOGTOWN   COMMON 


BY 

PERCY  MACKAYE 


H3eto  gorfe 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1921 


All  rights  reserved 


PRINTED  IN   THE  UNITED   STATES   OF  AMERICA 


COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  PERCY  MACKAYE. 


Set  up  and  printed.     Published  May,  1921. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A, 


DOGTOWN  COMMON 


4S8902 


Inland  among  the  lonely  cedar  dells 

Of  old  Cape  Ann,  near  Gloucester  by  the  sea, 

Still  live  the  dead — in  homes  that  used  to  be. 

All  day  in  dreamy  spells 
They  tattle  low  with  tongues  of  tinkling  cattle 

bells, 

Or  spirit  tappings  of  some  hollow  tree, 
And  there,   all  night — all  night,  out  of  the 
dark — 

They  bark — and  bark. 


2  DOGTOWJST    COMMON 

No  highroad  winds  by  that  deserted  way ; 

But  on  a  dingy  map  in  the  town  hall 

At  Gloucester,  one  may  read  upon  the  wall: 

"Old  road  from  Sandy  Bay 
Up  through  the  woods  to  'Squam  the  meeting 
house." — Today 

That  horse-road  is  a  rabbit-track,  so  small 
The  ghost  of  Sabbath  pilgrim  there  would  fail 

His  ancient  trail. 


Yet  often  a  footloose  pilgrim  by  that  track 
Still  climbs  the  cape  through  bog  and  tangled 

vine 
Up  granite  boulders,  where  by  some  green  pine 

He  pauses  and  looks  back 
Toward  the  blue  summer  sea  where  gull-white 

schooners  tack, 

And  snuffs  keen  smells  of  berry-bush  and  brine 
On  the  warm  wind,  and  harkens  the  noon-weary 
Chime  of  the  veery. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


From  Pigeon  Cove  three  miles  back  in  the  wood 
The  boulders  heap  up  in  a  wild  moraine — 
Gray  ruined  tabernacles  of  the  rain 

And  starry  solitude: 
A  Stonehenge  of  the  storms  that  Druid  glaciers 

hewed 

In  supplication  to  the  primal  pain, 
While  yet  the  world  groaned  in  the  mortal 

throes 
From  which  man  rose. 


There  lie  the  lonely  commons  of  the  dead — 
The  houseless  homes  of  Dogtown.    Still  their 

souls 
Tenant  the  bleak  doorstones  and  cellar  holes 

Where  once  their  quick  loins  bred 
Strong  fisher  men  who  fought  with  storms  at 

the  masthead, 

And  women  folk  who  took  their  bitter  toll 
Of  death,  with  only  their  old  dogs  to  be 
A  memory. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


They  took  that  bitter  toll,  and  bitter  thought 
Cankered  their  mateless  hours.     Dark  phan 
tasies, 
Hatched  of  long-brooding  winter  silences, 

Stretched  their  starved  spirits  taut 
With  mystic  yearnings  toward  forbidden  sins, 

which  wrought 

Their  ban  from  holy  communion.    One  of  these, 
Last  of  the  witches,  pinched  with  spirit-hunger, 
Was  Tammy  Younger. 


Long  after  Salem  days  she  cherished  the  lore 
Old  Cotton  Mather  cursed.    She  knew  the  clink 
Of  sieve  and  shears,  and  how  to  brew  dire  drink 

Of  foxberry  leaves  with  gore 
Of  new-stuck  swine.     Full  many  a  godless 

grudge  she  bore 

To  make  in  church  a  deacon  gape  or  blink, 
While  she  at  home  would  scratch  his  puppet 
with  bristles 

Of  prickly  thistles. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


And  when  she  died,  late  in  that  stormy  night 
While  neighbor  Hodgkins  labored  in  his  kitchen 
Matching  the  coffin  boards  to  bury  the  witch  in, 

And  rubbed  the  walnut  bright 
With  beeswax,  sudden  it  thundered,  and  the 

candlelight 
Guttered  in  dark,  and  "Wife,  come  here!    It's 

twitchin'," 
He  called.    "I  won't!"  his  goody  shrieked,  all 

clammy; 
"It's  her— it's  Tammy!" 

So  where  the  "Parting  Path"  splits  at  Whale's 

Jaw 

The  berry-pickers  pass  her  hearth  and  tell 
Old  yarns  of  Tarn  the  Witch,  and  what  befell 

Of  weird  ordeal  and  awe 
Young  Judy  Rhines,  her  niece,  whose  lips  no 

wildrose  haw 

Could  match  for  redness,  till  they  quivered  pale 
As  leaf-ash  when  John  Wharf,  the  minister, 

First  looked  at  her. 


II 

That  was  the  night,  long  after  sun  had  set, 
When  Peter  Bray  and  Stephen  Lurvey  started 
With  seven  girls  to  find  where  the  path  parted. 

Two  miles  from  where  they  met, 
Dark  Tucker,  Poll  and  Nabby  Morgan  were 

game  yet, 

Lyd  Muzzy,  Peg  and  Liz,  too,  were  stout 
hearted, 
But  Molly  Millet  heard  a  barking  sound — 

And  turned  bang-round. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


"Here,    Moll,    come    back!      Your    lantern's 

smokin'  out. 
The  moon  ain't  ris'  yet.     Whar  you  goin'?" 

"Home." 
"What  for?    What  ails  ye?"    "Nothin'  don't." 

"Oh,  come!    No  time  to  turn  about 
Now;  now  we're  nigh-most  thar.  Hark  yonder." 

"Hush!    Don't  shout; 
You  needn't  shout."     "She's  scart,"  laughed 

Nabby.    "No'm, 
I  ain't."    "What  of?    That's  jest  the  widders' 

bitches, 
The  Dogtown  witches." 

"Witches!"  screamed  Moll,  and  out  her  lantern 

went. 

Peter  haw-hawed  his  heartful;  Peggy  giggled. 
Moll  slipped  a  foot:   down  in  the  dark  she 

wriggled, 

Still  bawling.    Stephen  lent 
His  light  to  Lyddy:   "Here,  Lyd— hold  it!" 

Over  he  bent 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


And    picked    Moll    up,    all    mud.     "I    never 

sniggled 

An  eel  as  slick  as  you,  Moll/'    Moll  drew  tight. 
She  tugged  the  light 

From  Lyddy's  hand.    "I'm  goin'  home,  you — 

you—! 

I'm  goin'  now,  and  I'll  tell  Master  Wharf 
The  Godless  way  you're  goin'."    "You're  clean 

off, 

Moll.    Whar  we're  goin'  to 
Is  old  Aunt  Tammy's,  to  see  Judy."  "Judy  who? 
Your  Judy  Rhines!     I  guess  folks  know  what 

trough 
She  feeds  outen — the  slut!"    "Stop  thar!"  rang 

Peter; 
"Wait  till  you  meet  'er 


Afore  ye  stuff  your  mouth  with  that  mistake." 
"I  wouldn't  meet  no  one  that  daresn't  stand 
In  the  Lord's  meetin'  house.    I'd  cut  my  hand 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 


Right  off,  ruther  than  shake 
A  finger  of  her."    "Molly  Millet,  for  good  sake," 
Cried  Lyddy,  "quit,  and  come.    Pete  says  it's 

grand. 
She'll  tell  our  fortunes."    "Peter's— sure!    How 

sweet!" 
"Watch  here!"  growled  Pete, 

"You  knew  first-off  whar  we  was  aimin'  for; 
And  what's  a  spookin'-party  without  spooks 
And    gals    and    sparkin'.    As    for    Judy — " 

"Zooks!" 

Snapped  Peg,  "Moll's  fearful  sore 
Jest  'cause  we  snickered."    "She  don't  need  to 

set  no  store 
By  snickers,  doos  she?    Jedgin',  though,  by  'er 

looks, 

She's  goin' back."    "I  be!"    "Haw!    Be  ye  so? 
Wall,  go,  then,  go! 

"Go   tattle!     Take  Steve's  lantern   for  your 
moon 


10  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

And  serenade  your  minister."    "I  will." 

And  Molly  went. — Far  sounding  from  Fox  Hill 

Still  rose  the  barking  croon 
Of  Dogtown. — Stephen  spat,  and  whistled  a 

hymn  tune; 

The  girls  drew  close,  like  pigeons  bill  to  bill 
In  a  seed-loft;  but  Peter,  chewing  wrath, 

Turned  up  the  path. 

He  swung  their  only  lantern  on  its  pole. 
"Come  on!"  he  called.    The  lantern  hardly  lit 
A  yard  around  him  with  a  circling  slit 

Of  light  like  a  hearth  coal, 
But  through  the  iron-peaked  top  a  triple  hole 
Gleamed  with  three  goblin  eyes,  that  winked 

a  fit 
Of  wabbly  spangles  when  his  pole  went  teeter. 

"Come  on!"  called  Peter, 

And  strode  ahead.    He  was  a  brawny  seaman, 
Was  Peter  Bray,  and  lusty  in  his  pranks. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 11 

He  fed  a  wild-oats  stallion  in  his  shanks, 

And  when  he  played  the  freeman 
With  girls  ashore,  and  looked  at  Steve,  and  said 

"Let  be,  man!" 
Stephen  let  be;  for  Pete  had  stormed  it  on  "the 

Banks," 
And  Steve  knew  well  there  was  no  longshore 

huffer 
Dared  call  Pete  bluffer. 


So,  like  a  covey  of  pullets  when  Sir  Cock, 
High  treading  air,  clucks  in  his  gizzard,  all 
The  girls  came  tiptoe-scrambling  to  the  call 

Of  Peter— full  in  flock 
With  Stephen  for  their  bantam.     Over  ridge, 

up  rock, 

By  pitch-dark  woodland  and  dim  pasture  wall, 
They  followed  his  goblin  light  and   the  far 
belling 

Toward  Tammy's  dwelling. 


Ill 

In  Tammy's  house  the  clock  was  twanging 

Nine. 
The  clock-moon  eyes  stared:  blindly  on  the 

gloom. 
One  candle  on  the  hearthstone  lit  the  room. 

There,  dim  in  candleshine 
And  deep  in  yawning  chimney-place,  Tarn  bent 

her  spine 

On  a  low  trundle-stool,  to  ply  the  loom 
Of  rug-work  on  her  lap.    She  bent  more  near. 
"Judy!    Come  here." 

12 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  13 

Judy  stood  leaning  at  the  window-sill. 
An  irised  pane  ghosted  her  portrait  there: 
Guled  round  with  rusty-golden  of  her  hair 

Her  shadow  face  was  still. 
The  dark  tick- tacked;  a  cricket  bored  his  elfin 

drill; 

A  drowsy  chimney-swallow  waked  somewhere; 
Outdoors  grum  barkings  died  away,  and  then 

Began  again. 


"Judy!    Come  here!"    "Oh,  Aunt,  why  do  they 

bark? 

I  can't  endure  to  hear  'em."    "Come,  I  said, 
Come  here!    Quit  mindin'  yonder  on  the  dead. 

Lor'  knows  they  make  us  cark 
And  care  enough,  let  'lone  us  hankerin'  to  hark 
Their  yelps."    The  tattered  caul  on  Tammy's 

head 
Shook;  her  mouth  wrinkled  feebly  in  a  fleer. 

"See  now ;  see  here. — " 


14  DOGTOW.N    COMMON 

Tain  bowed  the  broken  spindle  of  her  face 
And  clawed  with  brittle  fingers  in  her  lap. — 
Like  a  lean  winter  elm,  she  was,  whose  sap 

Is  shrunken  beyond  trace, 
Or  like  some  cellar  insect,  pale  in  a  dank  place, 
That  lurks  beneath  a  musty  cider-tap, 
And  reaches  long  and  trembling  antenna 

To  hear  and  see. 


"Feel  now — my  rug:  'i  is  spoilt.    This  hank  is 

tore 
Clean  through  the  weave."    "Likely  a  mouse 

has  been 
And  gnawed  it." — "Mouse!    I'll  give  his  tarnal 

sin 

Come-up-ance!    Twice  afore 
He's  spoilt  my  work  to  spite  me;  but  he'll  pay 

his  score. 

I'll  stick  a  bramble  in  his  puppet's  skin 
Till  he  prays  God  to  ease  his  itchin'  fur. 
Mouse? — Minister ! " 


DOGTOWNCOMMON  15 

"The  minister!     Why,  Aunt  Tarn,  what  cT  ye 

mean?" 

"Hark,  Judy  Rhines!    I've  told  ye  what  a  sort 
Folks  called  my  Granny  Luce:  "Old  Witch," 

fer  short. 

I  was  come  seventeen 
When  Granny  died.    She  lamed  me  all  she'd 

lamed  and  seen, 
And  peck  o'  trouble  the  church  folks  gave  her 

for  't, 

Till  soon  they  called  me  witch,  and  druv  away 
My  work  and  pay — 

"Yes,  like  as  they've  done  you  now,  'cause  o'  me, 
Ah1  'ceptin'  what  we  am  by  secret  ways. — 
Old  Elder  Coit  was  courtin'-spruce  them  days. 

He  kep'  me  company, 
But  quit  when  I  was  banned;  and,  all  these 

years  long,  he 

Has  set  the  min'ster  'gin  me  when  he  prays. 
So  now  he's  set  John  Wharf,  the  God-believin', 

To  curse  my  weavin', 


16  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"And  now — now — "  Tammy  gulped;  her  thin 

voice  snapped 
And  crackled,  moaning.    Judy  crooned :  "There 

-there— " 

And  raised  her  up  in  her  deep  elbow-chair, 
And  smoothed  the  shawl  that  wrapped 
Her  shrivelled  body.    Tarn's  weak  head  went 

nod;  she  napped. 

Her  black  shawl  felt  the  sheen  of  Judy's  hair. — 
The  cricket  drilled  in  ores  of  black  and  gold 
And  young  and  old. — 


Low  seated  on  the  trundle,  Judy  stirred. 
She  winced  with  her  left  arm.    The  arm  was 

slung 
Loose  in  a  band  of  cloth.    Her  right  she  hung 

Where  the  hearth-candle  blurred 
Her    eyes,    that   gazed    unblinking.     Nothing 

mortal  heard 
The  music  of  her  thoughts.     They  had  no 

tongue 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 17 

Even  for  herself  as,  will-less,  her  right  hand 
Groped  in  the  sand 

Beside  the  hearth  and  clutched  a  small  charred 

stick. 

Slantwise  her  fingers  held  it,  like  a  quill. 
Slowly  it  swirled  in  aimless  orbits,  till 

The  sharp  black  point  went  crick 
On  the  gray  stone.    Wide-eyed,  she  stared  on 

the  flame-wick. 

Below,  the  charry  pencil  stirred — was  still — 
Crept  on  once  more;  then — idly  as  a  mote 

On  air — it  wrote. 

"Judy!    What  ails  ye,  Judy?"  quavered  Tarn. 
The  will-less  hand  still  wrote,  the  void  eyes 

stared. 
"What's  that?    Where  are  ye,  Judy?"    Tammy 

flared 

Chin-forward. — "Here  I  am, 
Here,  aunt:  What  is  it?"    "Aye,  what  is  i 

makin'  sham 


18  DOGTOW.N    COMMON 

Or  figgurs?"     "Figgurs?"     Still  her  soul  was 

snared 

In  twilight,  like  a  child  that  stumbles  from  day 
In  some  dark  way 

Seeking  a  lost  thing.     "Figgurs?"     Now  her 

eyes 
Slow  focussed  on  the  hearthstone.     "Head! 

Read  off 
Yonder  what's  wrote."     She  read:     "  'T  is  I, 

John  Wharf." 

And  then,  still  slower,  twice : 
"  'T  is  I,  John  Wharf."— "Ha,  him!    So,  did  I 

tell  ye  wise? 

'T  is  him  that  persecutes  us  with  his  scoff. 
His    mark!     He's    owned     up     now."     Tarn 

chuckled,  wild. 
But  Judy — smiled. 


Whenever  Judy  smiled,  roses  came  out 
And  sorry  weather  took  another  seeming. 


DOGT  OWN    COMMON  19 

When  Judy  knew  she  smiled,  that  ruddy  gleam 
ing 
Put  utterly  to  rout 

Old  cankerworms,  and  sudden  buds  began  to 
pout. — 

"That's    funny,    Aunt!    I    must    have    been 
adreaming," 

She  smiled ;  and  smooched  the  writing  with  her 

foot 
Back  in  the  soot. 


Yet  in  her  smile  a  pallid  yearning  hid, 
And  in  her  presence  splendors  far  away 
Lingered  in  afterglow — gray-rose,  rose-gray. 

"Aye,  sign  his  name,  he  did, 
In  black!    'T  was  Satan's  chalk  he  borrered." 

"God  forbid, 
Aunt  Tarn,  that  he—"    She  stopped  short  in 

her  say, 
For  "Judy !    Judy !    Judy  Rhines ! "  it  sang.— 

The  door  went  bang. 


IV 

Then   sileince. — Judy  pulled   the  latch.  ,  She 
peered 

And  shrunk  back.    Through  the  doorway,  hulk 
ing  tall, 

Loomed  Peter,  like  a  bullock  from  a  stall. 
The  teeth  in  his  red  beard 

Laughed  white;  above  his  grin  the  goblin  eye 
balls  leered. — 

"Halloa,  thar!"     "Peter  Bray!—  you?"     "Me, 
and  all 

These  little  shiners  in  a  net.     Steve  ketched 

'em, 
And  so  we  fetched  'em 

"Along  to  show  ye.    Come  in,  gals!"    "Who's 

there?" 

20 


DOGTOWNCOMMON  21 

Shrilled  Tammy.    "Jest  it's  Pete  and  Stephen, 

Aunt; 
They're  bringin'  comp'ny."    "Comp'ny!    What 

they  want 

This  late  o'  night?"    "Don't  scare 
Yerself,  Aunt  Tarn,"  piped  Peter.    "We  dropt 

in  ter  share 

Some  vittals  with  ye.    Not  stay  long  we  shan't. 
Here's  pie — and  bread — and  rum — and  barb'ry 

jam." 
"Come  in,"  said  Tarn. 


"Come  in.    Set  down,"  said  Judy.    In  they  came 
And  groped  amid  the  dusk  for  stool  and  settle. 
But  Peter  stood.    His  brawn  was  all  in  fettle, 

And  Judy  was  a  flame 
To  sear  flesh,  till  the  tethered  stallion  in  his 

frame 

Slavered  his  bit.    He  felt  her  beauty's  nettle 
Sting  in  his  loins,  and  with  her  passing  look 

His  being  shook. 


22  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

She  passed  him,  bringing  newly  lighted  dips 
For  the  newcomers.    Quick,  he  reached  to  aid, 
But  she  was  quicker.    Almost  he  had  laid 

Hand  on  her  finger-tips 
But  they  eluded,  and  the  light  shaft  from  her 

lips 
Was   glanced    to   Stephen.     "Steve,    can't  ye 

persuade 
Peter  to  sit?    What  ails  the  man,  so  moody?" 

"Ask  that  o'  Judy," 

Winked  Stephen.     (The  girls  giggled.)     "He's 

come  up 

To  git  his  fortune  told."    "So  have  us  all," 
Joined  Peter;  "Aunty  Tarn  will  make  a  haul 

After  she's  took  her  sup 
0'  rum  here.— Spook  some  coffee-grindin's  in 

your  cup, 
Heigh,  Aunty,  won't  ye?"    Peter  plucked  Tain's 

shawl. 

He  slipped  a  shiny  coin  and,  stooping  near, 
Spoke  in  her  ear: 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  23 

"Leave  Judy  read  my  hand ;  you  tend  the  rest." 
Tarn  coughed,  and  bit  the  coin  with  a  blunt 

tooth. 
A  little  coin,  to  tell  a  witch's  truth 

Must  take  her  chemic  test 
To  pass,  for  witch's  spittle  is  the  Alchahest 
Of  lover's  lead  and  silver. — Couth  is  couth, 
And  silver  passes  muster:    Tammy's  squint 

Gave  Peter  hint. 

He   loitered   toward   the   cupboard,    lingering 

there. 
"Young  folks,"  leered  Tarn,  "I'm  old,  and  I  ain't 

able 
To  stir  me  round  like  you  be.    Shove  that  table 

Snug  up  here  next  my  chair, 
So  you  kin  all  set  nigh — so  fashion.     Judy, 

where 

Be  them  new  coffee-grindin's?"    "In  the  gable- 
Cupboard."     "Then  git  'em."     Peter  bulked 

before 
The  cupboard  door. 


24:  DOGTOW.N    COMMON 

'Til  help  ye."    "No,  ye  needn't."    "Yes,  I  need ! 
Your  left  arm's  hurted."    "Is  it?    Who's  com- 

plainin'?" 
"What  ails  it?"    "Askin'— you,  that  done  the 

sprainin'!" 

"Me  done  it!— When?"    She  freed 
Her  shoulder  from  his  clutch.     "Now,  Peter, 

jest  you  heed: 
That's  how  you   done  it  last  time."    "Pish! 

'T  ain't  painin', 
Or  else  ye  wouldn't  laugh."    "Oh,  wouldn't  I?" 

-"By  Gorry, 
Judy,  I'm  sorry!" 

"Then  leave  me  pass!" — She  found  a  cannister 
And  fetched  it  to  the  table.    "Ah !  let  see," 
Sniffed  Tarn,  and  smelled  inside:     "Aye,  here 

they  be. 

Now  don't  you  make  us  stir, 
Peter.     Here  ain't  no  room  for  more.     You 

set  with  her 
Yonder.    My  Judy  knows  more  tricks  nor  me 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  25 

In  these  concarns.    "But,  Aunt,  I'd  ruther— 

"Nay, 
Do  what  I  say, 

"There  ain't  no  room  here."    Tammy  stretched 

a  claw 

And  pinched  Nab  Morgan  by  her  slender  wrist. 
"Here,  birdie;  hold  these  grindin's  in  your  fist 

And  feed  'em  in  your  craw ; 
Now  spit  'em  in  this  cup." — A  shiver  of  cold 

awe 

Silenced  the  girlish  gigglings.    With  a  twist 
Tarn  turned  the  cup,  and  squinted  long  inside. 

But  Peter  eyed 

Judy,  and  Judy — Peter.    Sidling  slow, 

They  sauntered  toward  the  window-bench.    She 

gave 
A  twitchy  laugh.    "Well,  Peter,  you'll  behave?" 

"Sure  I'll  behave !    Ye  know 
How  folks  behave  that's  after  what  they  want." 

"And  so 


26  DOGTOW^T    COMMON 

You  want  your  fortune  told."     "Not  in  my 

grave 

I  don't.    I  want  it  now — right  on  the  spot, 
Not  told— but  got  I 

"You've  got  it  for  me,  Judy.    Come,  go  shares, 
And  open  up  the  hatches.    Let  her  bust! 
What  good's  a  fortun'  stowed  away  for  trust?" 

"And  you  call  this  behavin'?    Where's 
Your  hand?    Set  still."    He  reached  it,  scraggy 

with  red  hairs, 

Tattooed  with  purple  anchors.    Stifled  lust 
Throbbed  in  his  pulse,  as  Judy  turned  it,  calm, 

To  read  the  palm. 

The  calloused  hide  was  crinkled  hard  in  seams 

Swarted  with  tarry  grime  and  creosote 

From  many  a  dry-dock'd  keel  and  whaling-boat 

Oar-pulled  in  ocean  streams. — 
"So,  Judy!    Kin  you  riddle  thar  what  kind  o' 
dreams 


DOGTOWNCOMMON  27 

Goes  crazy  in  a  man  that's  ben  afloat 
Nine  moons  at  sea,  and  never  day  nor  night 
A  gal  in  sight?" 

"You  ain't  afloat  now,  Peter."    "No,  I  ain't; 
I'm  in  deep  water,  Jude;  I'm  overboard 
And  drowndin',  prayin'  mighty  on  the  Lord 

To  save!"    "Don't  gasp  so  faint; 
Your  life-line's  lookin'  strong."     "Aye,  Judy, 

you're  the  saint, 
You've  got  't — my  life-line:  you  kin  pull  me 

shore'ard 

If  you  jest  keep  aholt— take  me  in  tow — 
Never  leave  go!" 

"Leave  go  yourself,  Pete.  Quit;  you're  hurtinV 

"Will  ye, 

Oh,  will  ye,  Judy  dear?"    "Oh,  will  I  what?" 
"Give  me  the  drink  I'm  dyin'  for! — If  not, 

By  God,  I  guess  I'll  kill  ye, 
And  you  kin  axe  that  drink  whar  Dogtown 

devils  grill  ye 


28  DOGTOWtf    COMMON 

In    hell. — Ah,    God    forgive    the    drowndin' 

thought 
IVe  sweared. — See,  Jude;  see,  here's  a  silver 

shillin'! 
Now  be  ye  willin'?" 

His  words  came  panting,  whispered,  but  their 

tone 

Thundered  in  Judy's  soul.    Almost  she  cried 
Aloud,  but  strangers  near  constrained  her  pride. 

She  sat  as  still  as  stone. 
Unhearing,  the  awe-struck  girls  harked-on  to 

Tammy's  drone 

Where  close  she  held  her  cup,  to  peer  inside 
And  with  the  coffee-grounds  prognosticate 

Their  listened  fate. 

"Will  ye?    I'm  waitin'l"    Thick  he  breathed 

and  hard. — 

Then  flashed  a  blinding  pain,  and  choking  grips 
Crushed  on  her  teeth  the  blood-flower  of  her 

lips. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 29 

Her  mind  went  reeling,  scarred. 
"Will    ye?"     "I— will."     "Then    come.    The 

back-shed  door  ain't  barred. 
Come  quick."    "Wait!"    "Why?"— One  of  the 

lighted  dips 

She  lifted  in  his  face.— "What  for  a  light? 
There's  moon  tonight." 

"Look  in  the  flame.    Set  still."    "What  for,  the 

flame?" 
"Look  in  the  flame."    "What  for?"    His  look 

went  lost. 
Nearer  she  held  it,  till  the  eyes  were  crossed. 

"What  for?"— His  breathing  came 
Quicker,   then  slower — slow.    One   arm  went 

limp ;  his  frame 
Shuddered,  then  stiffened  hard.    His  face  was 

frost. 

Her  eyes  were  litten  coals  of  hate  and  shame. — 
"Look— in— the— flame." 


Who  knows  what  messages  Tomorrow  gets 
From  charnelled  Yesterday? — what  quivering 

thread 
Conjoins  the  buried  quick  and  buried  dead? 

Who  knows,  when  memory  sets 
In  dark,  what  lurid  afterglows  of  old  regrets 
Still  linger  ghostly  where  the  light  has  sped? 
Or  what  blind  seeds  of  destiny  life  sows 

In  death — who  knows? 


DOGT  OWN    COMMON  31 

Steve  Lurvey  spoke.  "What's  thar  ye  see  inside 
The  cup,  Aunt  Tarn?"    The  candle  dips  shone 

dim. 
Nab  Morgan  nudged ;  Steve  smiled ;  she  smiled 

at  him. — 

"I  see  a  weddin'  bride 

And  groom,  a  fishin'  schooner  leavin'  at  low  tide 
A  lightnin'  storm — a  drownded  man's  white 

limb — 

A  woman  waitin'  home,  with  daylight  darkin' 
And  drownd  things  barkinV 


"Come    'way,     Steve;     please    come    'way!" 

"Hush !    Don't  take  on.— 
Who  larnt  ye  see  sech-like  things,  Aunt?"    "My 

Granny." 
"Your— who?"     "My  Gran,  Luce  George:  she 

sees  'em  canny." 
"But  she's  ben  dead-an'-gone 
These  years  ago!"     "And  so  she  has.     She's 

over  yon, 


32  DOQTOWN    COMMON 

But   she   can   stick  her   fingers   through   the 

cranny 

And  rouse  me  up  outen  my  dozin'  naps 
With  'er  knuckle-raps." 

"Her  raps?"     "Aye,  on  the  table:  twice,  and 

thrice, 

Until  I  axe  her  what  she  wants."    "And  could 
We  axe,  and  would  she  answer?"    "P'raps  she 

would, 

If  you  kin  pay  her  price." 
Tarn  squinted  sharp  at  Steve.    Age  is  not  over 

nice 

With  youth,  when  youth  is  in  his  craving  mood 
Of  curiosity.    "Oh,  we'll  pay  score," 
Said  Steve,  "and  more!" 

"Then  lay  your  hands  and  tetch  the  fingertips, 
Like  so."    Lyd,  Poll  and  Lizzy  touched;  they 

tittered. 
The  other  four  laid  hands.    The  smooth  grain 

glittered 
Dimly.    "Blow  out  the  dips." 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  33 

Steve  blew  them  out.    Their  faces  blurred  in 

wan  eclipse. 

Out  of  the  dusk  the  chimney-swallow  twittered 
And  Judy's  one  flame  burned :    It  did  not  falter 
On  that  strange  altar 

Where  Peter's  image  like  an  idol  froze 
Before  the  silent  neophite  of  hate 
Holding  her  vengeance'  rapt  novitiate. 

Backward  her  shadow  rose 
Over  the  walls  and  rafters,  deep  engulfing  those 
Round  the  hush  table.    Half  incorporate 
She  seemed,   and  held   her  'flame  in  Peter's 
stare 

Like  one  in  prayer. 

Across  the  shadowed  circle  Tarn  kept  tab 
Over  the  sitters.    From  her  elbow-chair 
She  wrote  with  crooked  finger  on  the  air 
And  becked  toward  shrinking  Nab 
Weird  signs,  like  willow  patterns  on  a  grave 
stone  slab. 


34  DOGTOWN   COMMON 

"Gran  knows  my  hand  when  I  kin  write  it  fair. 
She'll  answer  when  she  reads  it,  twice  for  Nay 
And  thrice  for  Yea. 

"Gran  holds  her  head  atilted  to  one  side 
'Cause  in  her  jowl  she  has  a  twitchin'  tic; 
So  when  she  comes  ye'll  know  it  in  the  nick, 

For  Gran  herself  will  bide 
In   one  that's  here. — Aye,   here  she's  comin' 

now!"    Tarn  wried 
Her  neck  toward  Nabby.    Stephen's  heart  grew 

sick. 
Nab's  head  was  tilted  sideways,  and  her  eye 

Jerked  twitchingly. 

The  others  held  their  aching  fingers  taut 
Upon  the  table  board.    The  board  went  tap. 
They  hardly  breathed.    Twice  more  they  heard 

it  rap. 

"Yea,  yea,  ye're  quick  as  thought, 
Gran  Luce.    Give  ye  good  even ! "    Steve's  quick 

hearing  caught 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  35 

The  whisper-gasped  "Good  even"  through  the 

gap 
Of  Nabby's  twisting  mouth. — "Yea,  now  ye're 

come, 
'T  is  welcome  home, 

"And  tell  us,  Gran,  who  have  ye  fetched  to 
night? 

Is  it  the  Murky  Man  with  cock's  feet — him 
That  flew,  last  time,  out  at  the  chimney  rim 

And  pulled  ye  clean  from  sight 
Along  with   *m?" — One  and   one  it  rapped. 

"Nay,  then,  it  might 
Be  some  one  godlier  mayhap  and  prim 
Would  axe  a  blessing  without  horn  nor  hoof, 
On  my  poor  roof?" 

The  silence  tingled.     Low  it  knocked,  then 

loud: 
Once,    twice,    thrice.     Slow    the   shadow-door 

swung  back. 
Against  the  night  one  stood  there,  all  in  black, 


36  DOGT  OWN    COMMON 

Bare-headed.    A  faint  cloud 
Of  quivering  moonshine  wrapt  his  body  like  a 

shroud, 
And  round  his  hair  the  risen  moon's  bright 

wrack 

Glowed  like  a  halo.— "God  His  holy  Grace 
Dwell  in  this  place!" 

The  table  tipped,  stools  banged,  the  settle 

tumbled. 
"Ha-ha!"  screamed  Tain,  "ye're  come,  John 

Wharf  o'  mine, 
To  own  your  mark  what  Satan  made  ye  sign 

With  brimstone,  when  he  humbled 
Your  lyin'  tongue."    The  scared  girls  squealed 

to  hide  and  stumbled. 

"I  knocked,  but  no  one  answered.    May  the  Vine 
Of  His  Salvation  strangle  in  these  and  thee 
God's  Enemy!" 

"Aye,  aye,  it  has  'em  strangled— deef  and  dumb. 
Look  at  the  gal."    "Nab,  Nabby  dear!"  cried 
Steve, 


DOG  TOWN    COMMON 37 

"Tilt  up  your  head."     "Go  forth,  Apollyon! 

Leave 

This  child."    John  touched  the  numb 
Body.     Nab  choked,  and  sobbed  on  Stephen's 

shoulder. — "Come, 

Sweety,  let's  go ! "    They  went.— "As  old  as  Eve 
Thy  sin  is,  woman ! "  Clutched  in  trembling  rout, 
The  girls  rushed  out. 

John  Wharf  turned  back  to  call.    Before  him 

knelt 

A  young  form  by  a  bearded  fetich  cold. 
Her  candle  flared  the  mist  of  rusty  gold 

That  rimmed  her  face.    He  felt 
Her  throbbing  quiet  and  the  quickened  air,  that 

smelt 

Of  ripening  grapes  in  arbor.    Ages  old 
That  instant  and  that  kneeling  image  seemed; 

Or  else  he  dreamed. 

"  'T  is  I,  John  Wharf.    What  mortal  sin  is  here 
Of  witch's  sorcery?    WThat  are  these  signs?" 


38  DOGTOWN    COMMON" 

"And  so  ye're  come,  John  Wharf.     I'm  Judy 

Rhines."— 

He  looked  at  her,  austere 
Yet  hesitant,  as  if  he  tried  to  summon  clear 
Something  that  beckoned  from  the  pale  con 
fines 

Of  memory — a  bright  shape  far  away, 
Gray-rose,  rose-gray. 


"What  spell  is  here  that  turns  warm  flesh  to 

stone? 

Surely  this  dwelling  is  the  Devil's  lair! 
Who  is  this  man?    Why  does  he  sit  and  stare 

So  silent,  all  alone?" 
"  'T  is  Peter  Bray.    Ye're  right.    The  Devil's 

got  his  own 
In  Pete."    She  touched  Pete's  brow.    The  sullen 

glare 
Kindled.    She  touched  his  mouth:    "Talk!"- 

At  her  word 
The  dumb  lips  stirred 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  39 

And  spluttered,  like  a  rescued  drowner  stran 
gling. 

"Ha!     Will  ye,  Jude?     Come  on.    The  back- 
shed  door — 

'T  ain't  barred.     Come  quick!     What  for,  a 

light?— What  for?— " 
His  body  wrenched;  the  dangling 

Arm  straightened  up;  he  winked  and  winked; 
the  dark  went  spangling 

With  little  lighted  wicks,  that  gleamed  before 

A  man's  stern  face. — What  man? — The  min 
ister, 
Gazing  with  her, 


With  her,  his  Judy  Rhines, — gazing  at  him. 
He  lurched  upon  the  floor,  reaching  to  shut 
Their  eyes  away.    "Who's  thar?    By  God,  you 

slut—" 

He  saw  them  growing  dim. — 
"Who's  thar  ye've  got,  ye  whorin'  strump?" 
He  seemed  to  swim 


40  DQGTQWN    COMMON 

Towards  her. — "By  crack,  jest  leave  me  bag 

your  scut, 

I'll  skin  ye  the  rest  often!"    He  spat  foam. 
"Peter,  go  home." 


John   eyed  him. — "Home!"     He*  winced;   he 
swore;  he  went. 

His  big  shape  darked  the  doorway ;  he  was  gone. 

John     yearned     toward    the    young    figure: 

"Judy"— "John," 
She  murmured.    Her  voice  sent 

A  stealing  wonder,  like  strange  wine  of  sacra 
ment 

Through  his  wrought  spirit.    Where  her  candle 
shone 

Sudden  it  fell,  and  Judy  lay  there,  white 
In  the  moon's  light. 


Tarn  scuttled  from  her  corner.    "Lawks!  she's 
fainted. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 41 

It  takes  the  likes  o'  you  to  fetch  bad  luck 
On  me  and  mine  and  run  our  house  amuck!" 

"Witch,  't  is  thyself  hath  tainted 
This  wretched  child,  whose  soul  had  otherwise 

been  sainted 

By  her  young  innocence.    Look;  she  has  struck 
Her  arm;  't  is  wounded."    "Nay  't  was  Peter 

done  't 
By  sprainin'  on't 


"With   his   sweetheartin'   last  time  he   come 

here."- 

"Judy,  look  up !    Poor  Judy, — are  you  better?" 
Feebly  she  smiled.     Her  smile  was  a  bright 

fetter 

To  hold  his  spirit  near 

To  hers,  for  her  salvation.    "Judy,  never  fear; 
All  this  shall  pass."     Tarn  scowled.     "John 

Wharf,  you  let  'er 

Be!    7  kin  tend  what's  mine  by  blood  and  bone. 
You  tend  your  own!" 


42  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"Mine  own  are  where  the  sick  have  need  of  me. 
Where  is  her  bed?"  "In  thar— the  gable  room." 
John  raised  the  drooping  body.  Through  the 

gloom 

He  bore  it  tenderly 
Where  Tammy  groped  ahead  and  mumbled. 

Stooping,  he 

Laid  her  on  quilted  softness  dark  as  tomb. 
"And  are  you  better  now?"    Her  voice  breathed 

deep: 
"Yes;  now  I'll  sleep." 

He  tiptoed  back.    Tarn  grumbled  to  her  rest. 

He  listened :  all  the  inner  room  was  still. 

The  hour  twanged:  the  cricket  answered  shrill. 

His  spirit  was  the  guest 
Of  presences  that  thronged  the  tumult  of  his 

breast, 

But  quiet  was  his  shadow  on  the  sill 
And  lingered   there,   till  moonlight  paled  in 

dawn  ; 
Then  it  was  gone. 


VI 

Between  late  August  and  the  equinox 
Hovers  a  dreamy  season  frail  and  fleet: 
Then  slender-falling  water  is  very  sweet 

To  hear  among  great  rocks, 
Tinkling  in  golden  tones  the  calling  cat-bird 

mocks 

Beside  a  pool,  where  willows  sway  to  meet, 
And,  long  ago,  young  Judy  saw  her  face  in 

That  bright-dark  basin. 

43 


44  DOG  TOWN    COMMON 

She  saw  her  face,  and  laughed  to  see  it  there 
Lit  by  the  scarlet  flames  of  cardinal  flowers. 
Up  the  inverted  sky  in  tumbling  showers 

Cool  sunshine  splashed  her  hair 
Bright  copper  in  water-blueness.     All  of  old 

despair 

And  dreads  of  night  had  lost  their  eerie  powers 
Where  glad  she  passed  along  her  morning  trail 

To  fill  her  pail 


With  brook  water,  for  Tarn  to  boil  her  tea. 

In  dipped  the  pail:    The  current-poising  trout 

Flicked  off,  but  up  she  dipped  a  minnow  out 
And  spilled  him.    On  her  knee 

She  groped  amid  the  ferns  to  save  him.    Sud 
denly 

She  felt  her  hand  touched  warm.    She  turned 
about. — 

"Fishing  ashore?"     "Ah,  Master  Wharf,— it's 

you!" 
"What  shall  I  do 


DOGT  OWN    COMMON  45 

"Now  that  I've  caught  him?"     On  his  open 

hand 

He  held  the  minnow.  "Please !  oh,  leave  him  go." 
John  slipped  him  back.     They  watched  him 

dart  below. 

"How  helpless  on  strange  land 
He  is — how  strong  in  his  true  home!     You 

understand?" 
Her  eyes  looked  up.    "Last  night  was  strange, 

you  know. 

This  little  fish  hath  preached  a  parable. 
Remember  it  well." 

He  lifted  the  pail.    "And  are  you  going  home, 

Judy?    Or  are  you  lost  upon  the  way 

That  leads  where  in  the  dark  last  night  you  lay?" 

"That's  where  I  live,  Sir."    "Come, 
Sit  down.    That  is  not  where  you  live.    Long 

since,  in  Rome, 

St.  Paul  revealed  where  all  of  us  who  pray 
For  life  shall  live.    Dear  child,  we  live  in  faith 

And  not  in  death : 


46  DO QTOWN   COMMON 

"In  faith  and  hope  and  love;  these  three  in  one 
Are  God.     In  Him  we  live."     "The  dead  can 

live 
I  guess,  Sir,  without  God.    'Least,  I  believe 

They  can."    "He  sent  his  Son 
To  tell  us  otherwise."   "Whatever  have  we  done 
For  dead  folks,  then,  to  plague  us?"    "Devils 

give 
Those  fears  to  plague  you."    "Nay,  Sir,  'tain't 

all  sham. 
You  axe  Aunt  Tarn: 

"Her  Granny  Luce  had  lamed  us  more  than 

tricks. 

'T  was  her  that  helped  me  to  turn  Peter  cold. 
Oh,  Sir,  don't  tell  Aunt  Tammy  that  I  told: 

'T  was  her  that  burnt  the  ricks 
Of  Neighbor  Coit  last  year.    She  trimmed  our 

candle-wicks 

And  told  Gran  Luce  to  fire  his  new  sheep-fold. 
Oh,  Sir,  I  hate  the  awful  things  us  do ; 
But,  Sir,  it's  true!" 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  4? 

"Nay,  Satan  is  Delusion,  he  is  lies, 

And  Faith  destroys  Delusion.    Put  away 

Satan  I"    "How  can  I  do  it,  what  you  say — 

Make  this  world  otherwise 
When  so  it  is — his  world?    Even  you  it  won't 

surprise 

May  be,  when  you  remember  yesterday: 
What  time  last  evenin'  did  ye  guess  you'd  come 

Up  to  my  home?" 


"What  hour?     Let  see:     I  think  't  was  nine 

o'clock 

For  Molly  Millet  told  me— "    "Only  kerf 
And  was  there  no  thin'  else  that  made  ye  stir? 

Three  three's  is  nine :  her  knock. 
Who  was  it  called  ye,  when  ye  felt  the  spirit 

shock 
And  answered  plain :    '  'T  is  I,  John  Wharf?— 

Ah,  Sir, 

Forgive  me!"     "Yea,  but  I  remember  now: 
Judy, — 't  was  thou! 


48  BOG TOWN    COMMON 

"I  stood  alone  beside  my  study  door. 
Molly  had  gone,  but  yet  I  felt  no  sign 
To  go.  Just  then  the  clock  was  telling  Nine, 

And  dimly  there  before 
My  sight  you  rose  from  a  low  trundle  on  the 

floor. 

Your  eyes  were  sad  and  pleaded  unto  mine. 
I  spoke,  and  in  a  mist  of  rose-and-gray 

You  paled  away. — 

"Then  I  went  forth  to  Dogtown."    John  looked 

round 

At  Judy,  where  they  rested  on  a  stone. 
His  young,  grave  face  grew  old:  it  sought  her 

own, 

Then  stared  upon  the  ground. 
The   drip   of   falling   water   made   a  dreamy 

sound. 
«0h,  Sir,— John  Wharf— forgive  me!     If  I'd 

known, 
I'd  never  so  have  sinned."    "What  sin  was  thine 

Also  was  mine; 


DOGT  OWN    COMMON  49 

"And  if  it  be  that  Satan's  snare  entwines 

Us  both,  then  we  must  break  it,  both,  together 

And  seek  in  prayer  a  bond  of  holier  tether. 

0  Judy — Judy  Rhines, 

What  witchcraft  weaves  you  round  that  Christ 

the  Lord  enshrines 

Its  charnel  in  such  wonder?    Tell  me  whether 
I  pray,  or  sin,  that — looking  on  your  face— 

1  pray  for  grace!" 


"Nay,  never  pray  towards  me.    Ye  see  this  arm 
Last  night  was  sprained,  and  now  't  is  healed, 

I  guess: 
Sir,  you're  a  minister;  leave  me  confess. 

'T  was  Peter  done  the  harm 
Ahankerin'  for  more;  but  me,  I  worked  the 

charm 

Or  else  he  would  'a  lusted  for  me  less. 
0  Sir,  the  dead — the  livin'  dead — they  clutch 

My  heart  so  much, 


50  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"And  make  my  days  so  eerie,  and  Aunt  Tarn 
Has  heavied  my  nights  and  days  with  hatin' 

things 
So  long,  sometimes  my  spirit  takes  and  flings 

All  thinkin'  off,  like  flam, 
And  jest  goes  livin',  lovin',  naked  like  I  am, 
Feelin',  and  makin'  others  feel,  what  brings 
Their  love  upon  me.    So  what  makes  me  glad 

Made  Peter  bad ; 

"But  me,  that  made  him  so,  ain't  I  the  same 
In  sinnin'?     Ain't  I,  Sir?"     John's  life-blood 

surged 
Within   him.     "Child,    the   charnel   must   be 

purged — 

Our  hearts  be  cleansed.    The  blame 
Is  Antichrist's,  who  taints  our  glory  with  his 

shame; 
But  I— 0  God!"    He  stopped.    His  face  was 

scourged 

By  inward  lightnings,  which  he  smothered  under 
To  curb  their  thunder. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  51 

"Why  don't  ye  say  the  words?"  "What  words?" 
"The  ones 

That's  in  your  mouth."    He  gazed  at  her,  con 
strained. 

"He  who  would  cleanse  must  be  himself  un 
stained, 
But  I  am  soiled!'  ( — Her  tones 

Her    looks    were    his.)    "Weren't    them    the 
words?"    "What  dark  touchstones 

Were  yours,  to  fathom  what  my  mind  con 
tained? 

How  could  you  tell  my  thoughts,  and  speak 

them  so?" 
"Sometimes  I  know 

"The  words  before  folks  speak.  I  hear  them  all 
Out  loud,  like  some  one  told  me  how  they  ran." 
"Who  told  you  these?"  "I  guess  't  was  her— 

dead  Gran." 

"Let  be!    Let  be!    The  scall 
Of  Satan  shends  thee,  child.    His  venom  can 

bespawl 


52  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

God's  cleanest  shrine,  and  make  of  hallow'd  man 
An  ulcered  thing.    Cast  out  this  prying  evil! 
'T  was  he,  the  Devil, 


"Who   gave   thee   power   to   read   my   secret 

thought, 

And  drew  last  night  my  spirit  to  thee. — Yea, 
I,  too,  am  soiled.    I,  too,  was  led  away 

By  his  dark  hand,  and  brought 
To  hell's  abyss:     'T  is  so  in  secret  we  are 

caught 
And  damned." — "How  can  we  'scape  him?" — 

"We  can  pray, 

And  Christ,  who  heareth  all  beyond  the  grave, 
May  cleanse  and  save." 

John  took  her  hand.    "Pray  with  me,  Judy 

child." 

In  crinkled  fern  they  sank  on  bended  knee. 
Above  them  glimmered  a  green  rowan  tree 
Red  flecked  with  berries  wild ; 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  53 

A  myrtle  warbler  flashed,  the  summer  morning 

smiled ; 

Kingscandle  burned  pale  tapers  tremblingly, 
And  falling  water,  falling  smooth  and  slender, 
Made  music  tender. 


"Dear  Christ,  who  rose  unblemished  from  the 
dead 

To  heal  the  sins  of  Thy  forbidden  fruit, 

Let  not  Thy  secret  Enemy  pollute 
This  child.    Yea,  shield  her  head 

From  God  the  Father's  wrath,  or  let  it  fall  in 
stead 

On  me,  her  minister. — Our  sins  commute!" 

"Nay,  when  we're  tryin'  to  shed  our  sins,  like 

now, 
Lord,  tell  us  how!" 


Cried  Judy;  and  she  added,  speaking  shy: 
"0  Master  Wharf,  I  don't  know  jest  to  pray 


54  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

To  Him.    I  never  lamed.    I  ruther  you'd  say 

What's  right,  and  then  I'd  try 
To    foller."     John    rose    up.     He   raised   her 

silently 

And  looked  long  in  her  face. — "Will  you  obey 
What's  right?"  "I'll  try."  "Then  follow  me. 

Come  home,"  said  he. 

John  took  the  pail.  Across  the  dappled  brook 
He  stepped — a  pensive  shadow,  silent,  black. 
Behind  him  Judy  watched  the  awkward  back 

Bend  forward  like  a  rook 
Stooping  from  stone  to  stone;  but  where  her 

yearning  look 

Followed  his  form  along  the  climbing  track, 
She  thought  a  shape  so  grand  in  power  and  awe 

She  never  saw. 


VII 

A  little  window  with  a  wooden  door 

Peeped   from   the   back   of   Tammy's   cabin. 

There 
Tarn  lurked  when  neighbors  passed,  to  catch 

them  where 

They  crossed  the  bridge  before 
Her  trap :    Pop  open  she  pulled  it  with  a  string, 

to  explore 
Their  teams,  and  make  their  oxen  stand  and 

stare 
With  tongues  lolled  out,  till  they  paid  toll,  poor 

lumpkins, 

In  corn  or  pumpkins. 
55 


56  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

And  while  the  gossips  tattled  on,  they  said 
No  basketful  of  pickerel,  fresh  from  creek, 
Was  safe  to  pass  that  spot,  but  Tarn  would 
wreak 

Wrath  on  the  owner's  head 
Till  he  went  empty-handed  home  in   angry 

dread; 

And  children  crept  by,  lest  she  hear  the  squeak 
Of  the  old  trestle-beam,  and  stick  her  cap 

Out  at  the  trap 

And  wag  it  till  their  little  heads  went  noddy. — 
So  creaked  the  trestle  now,  as  Judy  passed 
With  John.    Wide  flew  the  shutter.    "Wall,  at 

last! 

How  long'll  ye  keep  a  body 
Wai  tin'?  Ye  know  I  want  my  tea  afore  my 

toddy." 
Tam's  face  peered  out. — "Now,  Judy  Rhines, 

how  da'st 

Ye  fetch  that  man  along  of  ye? — John  Wharf, 
Jest  you  keep  off 


DOG  TOWN    COMMON  57 

My  premises !    Come  round  the  front  door,  gal." 
Slam  shut  the  window.    Judy  followed  John 
Around  the  lilac  bush,  where  he  set  down 

The  water-pail.    "What  shall 
We  do,  Sir?"  Tarn  leaned  from  the  door.  "You 

tattertal, 

Keep  off,  I  tell  ye.    Leave  my  bucket  yon 
And  settle  your  own  concarns — with  Solomon 
Grundy 

Was  buried  o'  Sund'y!" 

Tarn  coughed.    She  daubed  her  thumb,   and 

sniffled  snuff 
Out  of  her  withered  palm.    John  flashed  a 

frown. — 
"Thomazine  Younger,  you  have  wronged  this 

town. 

Our  folks  have  borne  enough 
Of  your  clandestine  heresies.    Their  evil  scruff 
Corrupts  our  youth  and  soils  our  fair  renown. 
The  elders  of  my  church  have  bade  me  warn, 
Lest  you  suborn 


58  DOGTOWJST   COMMON 

"The  innocent  to  learn  your — "     "Ho,  your 

godly 

Elders!    'Tis  Master  Coit,— Zorobbabel, 
Ye're  meanin'? — Now  leave  Harry  come  from 

heU 

And  fetch  his  ca'cass  bod'ly 
Away  with  him!"    "Cease,  woman!  else  it  shall 

go  hardly 
With  you,  if  the  Elders'  doom  must  needs 

compel 
Your  peace. — One  child  you  shall  not  keep  from 

Christ. 
It  hath  sufficed 

"For  Judy  here  to  serve  your  errant  will 
Unwitting  where  it  led.    But  now  no  more! 
Her  eyes  are  opened  to  the  light;  the  door 

Of  that  seductive  ill 
Is  closed ;  and  she  shall  never  cross  its  darkling 

sill 
Again."    "Not    cross    my    sill — won't    Judy? 

Lor'! 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  69 

But  you  aire  turnin'  Prophet  Jeremiah ! 
Come;  call  him  liar, 

"Judy,  and  git  us  riddance  of  his  clatter." 
"Speak,  Judy  child :    You  promised  to  obey 
The  right.    Now,  will  you  choose?" — She  mur 
mured  "Yea," 

And  stopped.    She  heard  the  patter 
Of  chipmunks  on  dry  leaves;  they  seemed  to 

chase  and  scatter 

Her  thoughts  with  little  frisking  tails  in  play. 
"Which— Christ,  or  Tammy?"— -"Bein'  like  I 

am, 
I'll  stick  by  Tarn, 

"I  guess."     John  stared  at  her;  but  Tammy 

cackled 

Loud  as  a  lean  hen-mother  ruffed  with  spite. 
"But  you — you  promised  to  obey  the  right." 

"I  did." — The  chipmunks  crackled 
Loose    shingles    on    the    house    roof.    Judy's 

tongue  was  shackled 
To  heavy  weights  upon  her  heart.    Her  sight 


60  DOG TOWN    COMMON 

Turned  dim.    "The  right  what  we  was  talkin' 

of— 
Ain't  it— to  love?" 


"It  is.»_ "So,  then,  may  be  I  didn't  know. 
I  guess  I  don't  love  Christ,  but  Tarn — I  do. 
Only  if  you'd  a-said— not  Him,  but—"  "Who?" 

The  quick-caught  breath,  the  glow 
Of  heart-flame  on  the  cheek,  where  rose-lights 

come  and  go — 
Tarn's  old  sight  was  too  blear  to  catch  their 

cue. 
She  called  "Come  in,  Jude!"    Judy  bent  her 

head. 
"Goodbye,"  she  said, 


And  stooped  to  pick  a  gray  flower  at  her  feet. 
Above  its  clustered  hearts  her  blurred  eyes 

shone 
Fast  winking,  while  she  handed  it  to  John. 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  61 

"It  grows  right  here,  and  sweet 
To  smell.    They  call  it  Life  Everlasting.' '    His 

heart  beat 
Quick  pain.    He  smelled  faint  fragrance.    She 

was  gone. 
"0  Christ!"  he  prayed,  "0  flower  of  thirst  and 

fasting — 
Life  Everlasting!" 


VIII 

To  walk  in  summer  quiet  soothes  the  heart 
That  strains  to  burst  the  leash-cord  of  its  limbs: 
To  walk  alone,  and  chant  aloud  great  hymns 

That  make  the  deep  pines  start 
Their  organ-ludes,  where  lingering  orioles  take 

part 

In  lonely  intervals:  to  climb  the  rims 
Of  solitary  rocks,  and  find  release 

Of  power — is  peace. 

62 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  63 

John  walked  in  summer  quiet.    He  walked  to 

think 
His  pent  soul  free  of  thoughts.    He  walked  to 

fill 
The  ache  of  thought  with  beauty.    He  lay  still 

High  on  the  shelving  brink 
Of  a  huge  boulder's  roofbeam,  where  he  heard 

the  clink 
Of  the  quarryman's  hammer  call  from  Railcut 

Hill, 

Tapping  to  pulses  of  a  spirit  tabor 
Love  songs  of  labor. 


He  lay  and  saw — upstaring  at  the  sky — 
Visions  of  Christ  the  Savior  in  white  flame 
Walking  with  Judy.    Down  the  blue  they  came 

And  passed  him  quiet  by, 
Conversing  with  each  other  low  and  tenderly. 
She  held  a  small  drab  flower,   and  spoke  a 
name — 


64  DOGTOWJN"    COMMON 

"John,"  and  she  asked:     "Why  does  it  grow 

in  hell 
So  sweet  to  smell?" 

And  following  after  them,  in  peaked  hats, 
Black  Elders  strutted' from  a  little  church. 
One  muttered:  "Don't  tread  near  them,  lest 

they  smirch 

Our  gowns."    And  one  said :    "That's 
The  child.    They  say  she  turns  all  pretty  birds 

to  bats 

About  her  dwelling.    Tell  John  Wharf  to  search 
The  place  and  see."    And  where  their  shapes 

went  darking 
He  heard  them  barking. 


He  rose  and  stared  around.  Still,  far  below, 
He  heard  the  barking  sound.  It  died  away. 
He  bowed  his  head.  Clutching  he  kissed  the 

gray 
Flower  in  his  hand.    "  'T  is  so ! 


DOGTOWN  COMMON  65 

JT  is  so!"  he  whispered,  "But  Lord  God,  I  did 

not  know." 

Once  more  he  strode  on  in  the  summer  day, 
Where  yellow  butterflies,  bright-wing'd  from 

bath, 
Fluttered  his  path. 

The  footpath  turned  and  plunged.    He  followed 

it 

Into  a  barren  gulley,  bleak  as  where 
Lost   Christian   strayed   and   met   the   Giant 

Despair. 

He  watched  a  bittern  flit 
On  lumbering  wings,  to  vanish  in  a  swampy 

pit 

Of  cedars.    So  he  passed  to  balmier  air 
Along  the  moor  grass,  where  deep  wheel  ruts 

showed 
The  old  back  road. 

Across  ripe  fields  he  passed,  where  golden  rod 
And  purple  asters  mixed  in  glowing  tide. 


66  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

Dull-orange  daisies  stared  at  him,  ox-eyed, 

And  bursting  milkweed  pod 
Spirtled  white  filmy  seeds.    He  watched  them 

drift  toward  God 
Like  his  wild  thoughts.    Then  quick  he  turned 

aside 

And,  climbing,  reached  the  top  of  Gravel  Hill. 
There  he  stood  still. 

Far  off  he  saw  the  shores  of  Ipswich  Bay 
And  Newburyport  gleam  in  the  sea's  blue  fires: 
Sweet  Newburyport,  the  town  of  lovely  spires! 

There,  on  hush  Sabbath  day, 
In  blue-bright  Merrimac  the  Christ-clean  spirits 

lay 
Their   sins,   home   welcomed  with   baptismal 

choirs. 
How  often  he  had  helped  that  hallow'd  quest — 

Their  pastor's  guest. 

"0  Faith  and  Hope  and  Love!" — The  preach 
er's  words 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  67 

Came  fresh  and  strange  and  wild  with  mystic 

scope. 
Under  an  elm  he  lay,  on  a  green  slope 

Where  tawny-golden  herds 
Dreamed-by  like  horned  beasts  of  Revelation. 

Birds 
Dreamed  in  the  noon.    They  waked  toward 

night.    "OHope," 

They  sang,  "0  Faith,  and  ever-brooding  Dove 
Of  Christ-0  Love!" 


IX 

Song  is  the  soul.    Deep  in  the  primal  slime 
A  reptile  loved  and  sang.    The  hyla's  throat, 
Evolving  seraph  wings,  still  throbs  remote 

Through  million  forms  of  time 
In  Philomel's  rapt  song  and  Dante's  soaring 

rhyme. — 

John  felt  it  throbbing  now.    He  heard  it  float 
Up  from  the  pasture  earth,  primeval,  wild, 

Half  man,  half  child: 


DOG  TOWN    COMMON  69 

"Moon  went  into  poplar  tree, 
An'  star  went  into  blood; — 
"0  my  sin  is  forgiben  an'  my  soul  set  f reef- 
So  rich 

And  soft  and  unctuous  it  rose,  John  started 
To  find  the  singer.    Deep  and  mellow-hearted 

Once  more  it  tuned  that  pitch 
Of  gladness.    John  drew  nearer.    Standing  in 

a  ditch 

Of  blue  clay,  where  a  load  of  stones  lay  carted, 
He  spied  his  black  bird.    "Ha!    So  that's  you, 

Tie?" * 
"Yas'r,  Massa ,— me  an'  I." 


"Meet,  0  Lord,  on  de  milk-white  horse"— Old 

Tie 
Blinked  her  bright  eyes  and  laughed  up  in  the 

sun. 

Sweat  shined  her  black  face,  crinkled  like  a  bun. 
Her  workman's  smock  was  wry, 

*  An  authentic   character.      See  Note,  at  the  end. 


70  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

And  through  green  tattered  breeches  a  great- 
muscled  thigh 

Bulged,  as  she  raised  a  stone  to  lay  upon 
The  new  wall  she  was  building — building  strong 
Of  rock  and  song: 

"In  de  mornin'  w'en  I  rise, 

Tell  my  Jesus  howdy,  0! 
"Wash  my  hari  in  de  mornin'  glory — "    Slaves 
Had  pens  hi  Dogtown.    After  nightfall  there 
"Old  Ruth"  would  climb  her  creaking,  outdoor 
stair 

Above  the  stern  conclaves 
Of  pious  Puritans,  among  whose  honored  graves 
No  crumbling  slab  betokens  anywhere 
"Old  Ruth"  or  "Tie,"  yet  builded  of  her  hand 

The  stone  walls  stand. 

"Drop  on,  drop  on  de  crown  on  my  head" — 

Ha-ha! 
Ari   roily   in   my  Jesus'   arm!" — Dis  gospel 

hymnin' 


DOGTOWN    COMMON 71 

Dat  sho'  done  keep  my  drownded  soul  aswim- 

min', 

An'  make  dis  old  crow-bar 
Light  's  a  paddle  to  row  me."    "Tell  me,  Tie, 

why  are 
You  happy?"    "Me?    Cuz,  Massa,  'mong  de 

women 

Ise  glad  Ise  man,  an'  'mong  de  man,  glad  sho' 
Ise  woman.    So 


"Ise  glad  Ise  bof  togedder  an'  saved."    Tie  spat 
And  chuckled.    "Ole  Massa  Coit  done  bough  ten 

me 
Off  de  Port  Royul  ship.    He  tink,  says  'e, 

'Dat  be  strong  nigger,  dat 
Feller,'  an'  so  he  setted  me  to  buildin'  at 
Dese  stone  wall.    Long  year  while  ago  dat 

be."— 
And  once  more  from  Tie's  throat,  primeval, 

sweet, 
The  wild  tune  beat: 


72  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"O  my  sin  is  forgiben  an'  my  soul  set  jree!" — 
John's  heart 

Throbbed  with  the  tune;  his  voice  leaped  in 
her  strain. 

They  lifted  it  together — again — again. 
Tie  took  the  alto  part 

And  John  the  tenor.    Clear  he  heard  his  own 
voice  start 

Echoes  that  fell  from  sunset  like  gold  rain 

Where  round  him  shone,  through  red  of  wild- 
rose  hips, 
The  Apocalypse. 

Rose  hips  and  barberries,  vermillion  bright 
'Mid  green-pale  leaves  against  the  pale-green 

west: 
Rose  hips  and  barberries,  and  Judy  dresst 

In  dim  blue,  bending  slight 
Over  the  wall,  and  through  a  mist  of  coppery 

light 
Her  round  mouth  singing. — "Judy?"    His  hand 

presst 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  73 

His  eyes.    He  faltered:    "Judy,  is  it  true? 
And  this — is  you?" 

"I  heerd  you  singin'  and  I  come  to  join 
Your  hymn.    Don't  stop — 0  please!"    His  eye 
lids  shut; 
He  held  that  bright  face  fast.    He  longed  to  cut 

Her  image  on  a  coin 

Of  gold,  or  clean  new-minted  copper,  to  purloin 
And  hoard,  untouched  forever. — "Judy,  but 
How  far  you've  come  from  home!    The  sun  will 
set 

Soon.    If  you'll  let, 


"I'll  see  you  back."     ('Nay,  coin  could  never 

grave 

The  color  of  that  smile,'  he  thought;  'Ah,  no! 
But  in  her  hair  ripe  barberries — only  so 

For  memory  to  save 
The  bloom  of  her  bright  spirit!')    But  the  old 

black  slave 


74  DOGTOW^T    COMMON 

Called:     "Goodnight,  Massa!     Sun  he  layin' 

low, 

An'  Moon  she  peepin'  ober  de  wall,  so  den 
Goodnight!    Amen!" 

And  Tie  jogged  off.    Her  kinked  head,  hoar'd 
with  white, 

Bobbed  to  her  ploughhorse  pace.     Below  the 
hill 

"Sin  is  forgiben"  she  was  singing  still, 
And  far  beyond  their  sight 

"My  soul  set  free!"  rose  darkling  as  a  dreain- 
bird's  flight 

And  feU  in  silence.— "Judy !    T  is  God's  will: 

You  heard?"     "What,  John?"    "Our  sin  for 
given.    We 
In  Christ  are  free." 

"You,  John — not  me.     I  chose  Tarn."     "And 

your  choice 
Was  right.    You  followed  love.     Love  is  the 

Way 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  75 

Of  Christ.    Oh,  I  have  followed  it  all  day 

Ever  since  I  heard  your  voice 
Saying  'It  grows  right  here/  and  gave  me,  to 

rejoice, 
His    pathflower  —  His  —  Life    Everlasting!" 

"Nay, 
Don't  show  it  me  now.    Don't  John,  I'm  'most 

afraid 
For  what  I  said." 


"Afraid?    And  shall  we  be  afraid  of  Love? 
You  said,  if  I  had  said  not  Him  but — Who? 
I  asked;  and  even  while  I  asked,  I  knew 

Whom  you  were  speaking  of: 
Of  me,  not  Christ!     But  that  were  sacrilege 

above 

All  sacrilege,  had  it  not  been  that  you 
Saw  Christ  through  me — saw  Love,  who  burns 
even  now 

Here  in  my  brow, 


76  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"Here  in  my  breast,  even  Him!    For  I  have 

learned 

This  day  to  know  He  will  not  be  denied 
The  dream  he  seeks.     The  Bridegroom  seeks 

his  bride, 

Nor  can  his  quest  be  spurned 
By  Satan's  will.    Not  Tarn  your  spirit  turned 
To  first — but  me,  and  Christ  through  me  hath 

cried 

To  save  you — yea,  by  Love,  and  not  by  Hate, 
Who  hath  no  mate, 

"By  Love,  who  mateth  in  the  Holy  Ghost" — 
"No,  no!    Don't  leave  me  witch  you  too,  John 

Wharf, 
Not  you !    The  rest 's  enough.    God's  sake,  keep 

off 

Your  hands!    Don't  leave  Gran  boast 
I  fetched  you  in  her  snare." — "Let  dead  souls 

do  their  most, 
They  shall  not  blight  our  flower  of  life,  nor 

dwarf 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  77 

The  seed  it  bears."    He  kissed  the  small  gray 

flower. 
She  felt  his  power 

Quicken  her  soul  with  flame,  where  ruddy  light 
Of    sundown    blent    their    mingled    shadows. 

"John, 
—John ! "    " Ah,  Judy  dear !  "—A  shape  caine  on 

Against  the  coming  night 
Flinging  enormous  shadow-limbs.    "Ho,  thar! 

Hold  tight! 

A  shillin'— a  silver  shillin',  Jude!    I've  won. 
Now  maybe  you're  the  slut  I  says,  or  ain't  ye? 
By  God,  I'll  paint  ye 

"Red-scarlet  in  the  meetin'-house  for  this — 
And  you,  ye  thievin',  God-believin'  cur! 
She's  mine!    I  paid  my  shillin'  down  for  her, 

And  now  you're  crimpin'  the  kiss 
I    bargained    for."— John    blazed:    "Enough! 

God's  patience  is 

Not  always  meek."    "Ho,  chuck  your  minister! 
Ye're  jest  a  he-male  snoopin'  after  she, 

Like  what  I  be, 


78  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"And  which  on  us  is  picked  to  be  a  winner 
God  ain't  the  umpire."    "Listen,  Peter  Bray — " 
"Thanks,  Jude!     But  th'  ain't  no  candleshine 

by  day 

"Fer  you  ter  freeze  a  sinner 
Dead  stiff  agin.    So,  Johnny  Wharf,  here  goes  a 

chinner 
Fer  you!"    And  hot  as  hammer,  where  sparks 

spray 

The  glaring  blacksmith,  Pete's  sledge-fist  de 
livered 
His  blow.    John  quivered 

Limp  in  the  ditch,  face  downward  in  blue  clay. 
Bright  on  his  chin-bone  oozed  a  reddening  clot. 
Pete  kicked  him  sideways.  "Last  time  what  I 

shot 

A  muskrat,  so  he  lay 
Squirmin'.    And  now,  Jude  dear,  next  time  I 

call,  you'll  pay 

That  little  shinin'  silver  shillin'  what 
I  loaned  ye.    So  long!" — Judy  sank  upon 
The  clay  by  John. 


Sabbath :    How  like  an  angel's  voice  the  bell 
Trembles  the  rhythmic  air — an  angel,  blessing 
With  peace  the  soul  of  passion,  and  caressing 

The  heart  where  tumults  dwell: 
Now  peace  for  the  living  pilgrim,  now  his  part 
ing  knell 
Of  death,  it  sounds.    Man's  days  on  earth  are 

pressing 
Onward,  and  ever  as  they  number  Seven 

He  turns  toward  heaven. 
79 


80 DOGTOWN    COMMON 

Tom  Stacy,  parish  clerk,  has  tied  his  nag 
Under  the  shed  and  reached  the  meeting  house. 
The  porch  key  grates.    He  steps  in.    A  gray 
mouse 

Goes  scurrying  zigzag 

Across  the  vestry,  while  he  fumbles  for  a  rag 
To  dust  the  pews  and  pulpit.    A  wild  grouse 
Drums,  as  he  opens  a  shutter,  looking  toward 

The  still  graveyard. 


He  pulls  bell.    Now  hoofs  thud,  wheels  wkine 

on  gravel: 

Far  scattered  worshippers  unite  their  ways. 
Nicholas  Kintvil  reins  his  team  of  bays, 
Sweat-foamed  from  ten  miles  travel, 
To  hail  Si  Chard,  horseback.     Their  tongues 

unravel 

A  week  of  news,  till  Dan  Stone  backs  his  chaise 
Against  Si's  cruppers.    "Heigh,  you  thar,  you 

mopes! 
Whar's  y'  hitchin'  ropes?'7 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  81 

"Shucks,  Dan,  you'd  oughtn't  steer  your  rig 

like  that. 

Thar's  Nabby  Morgan  in  Steve  Lurvey's  buggy. 
He    steers    right    smart."    "They're    gigglin' 

mighty  huggy 

Looks  like  to  me."    "Tit's  tat 
With  them,  I  guess." — "Here  comes  John  Eal- 

ing's  democrat 
Full  up  with  more  gals.    This  hot  spell's  too 

muggy 
To  crowd  a  trap  so  tight.    Look  now,  he'll  spill 

it!" 
"Thar  goes  Moll  Millet 


"Walkin'  her  lone."  "Jest  hear  Eliakim's  mare 
Whinny!  Last  month  she  yeaned  twin  fillies." 
"Well,  Alvin  Lincoln, — fetchin'  water  lilies 

To  trim  church,  I  declare! 
You  al'ays  did  find  plenty  workin'  time  to  spare 
For  pretty  deeds.    The  way  is  whar  the  will  is." 


82  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"Hush!     Here's  the  Stanwood  ladies.    When 

they  stir, 
Sweet  lavender 

"Seems  growin'  round  their  feet.    They  ain't 

like  others." 

— So  teams  are  hitched  and  blanketed  from  gall 
Of  flies.    Old  folks  in  Sunday  black,  and  small 

Children  held  fast  by  mothers' 
Hands,    saunter    toward    the    meeting-house, 

where  silence  smothers 
The  horseshed  prattle;  for  in  his  carry-all 
Alone,  bolt  upright,  leering  looks  adroit, 
Sits  Zorab  Coit. 

Beside  the  porch  he  tossed  his  reins  to  Stephen 
And     waddled     out— stub-legged,     thick     of 

paunch, 
Pug  as  a  woodchuck  squatting  up  on  haunch. 

Under  his  chin,  shaved  even, 
His  white  beard  curled,  round  like  a  bib,  and 

bald  as  shriven 


DO  GT  OWN    COMMON  83 

Monk  was  his  skull.     His  nose  stuck  sharp, 

and  staunch 
His  neckbone  topped  his  spine;  but  over  his 

priggish 
Mouth,  the  bright  piggish 

Eyes  slitted  slant  through  lids  of  puffy  skin. 
Always  they  seemed  to  lurk  for  some  surprise — 
Angling,  alert,  yet  unobtrusive  eyes: 

There  were  no  comings-in 
Nor  goings-out  but  they  detected  secret  sin 
At  work.    "Good  day,  Miss  Nabby;  you  look 

wise 

This  mornin'."    "Me,  Sir?"    "Wa'n't  it  you  was 
driven 

Past  me  by  Stephen?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lurvey;  yes,  Sir.    He's  gone  now 
To  hitch  your  team."    Nab's  face  turned  white, 

then  rosy. 
"So  he  is!    What's  that  he's  fetchin'  back— a 

posy? 


84  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

I  s'pose  you  don't  know  how 
He  spent  last  Friday  evenin'?    My  best  corn- 
fed  sow 
Died  Friday  evenin7."    "Oh,  Sir!"    "You  don't 

s'pose  he 
Knows  why  she  died?"    "Who — Mr.  Lurvey? 

Oh,  Sir, 
I'm  sure — Oh,  no,  Sir." 


"  'Cause  I  saw  lights  go  past,  up  Dogtown  way, 
'Fore    nine    o'clock;    and    there    was    extry 

barkin'."— 
"Aye,  Sir,  't  was  Steve  and  Nabby:  they  was 

sparkin' — " 

"Now,  Moll,  how  da'st  you  say — " 
"I  da'st  say  more  what's  so !    'T  was  Peter,  too, 

and  they 

Had  Lyddy,  Peg  and  Liz  along,  remarkin' 
They'd  go  see  Judy  Rhines." — Steve  loomed 

and  glared. 
Moll  stood,  unscared. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  85 

"Well,  Stephen,  ain't  it  so?"    "Cool,  now,  young 
folks! 

Keepcool!  This  is  the  Lord's  day.  While  thatbell 

Still  rings,  we'll  stay  here  in  the  porch. — Now 

tell: 
Is  this  one  o'  your  jokes, 

Steve    Lurvey?"    "What    you    mean,    Sir?" 
"Tryin'  to  coax 

Young  girls  to  sell  their  souls?"    "What,  me?" 
"How  well 

Do  you  know  Judy  Rhines?" — "Leave  me  con 
fess, 
Nabby! — Why,  yes, 


"I  know  Jude  Rhines,  Sir. — She's  a  witch." 

"A  witch!" 
The  porch  buzzed  like  a  bee  cloud  swarming. 

Young 
And  old  stuck  heads  together.    Each  loosed  a 

tongue : 
"One  night  I  heerd  a  scritch 


86  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

Outen  her  ell."    "Her  broom's  all  wore  down  to 

a  switch." 

"I  set  a  trap  nigh  Tarn's  house — found  it  sprung 
And    nothin'    irit!"      "They're    both    queer. 

What  can  ail  'em?" 
"They  knowed,  down  Salem." 

"Ye've  made  a  bad  charge,  Steve.    What  can 

you  bring 

Of  proof  she  be  a  witch,  as  you  aver?" 
"Hush,  Nab,  hush  up! — This  silver  button,  Sir. 

She  wears  one  arm  in  sling. 
Wall,  Sir,  last  week,  I  shot  a  crow  in  the  left 

wing 

With  this  same  button,  what  was  found  in  her 
Left  arm!"    "In  Judy's  arm?"    "Yes,  Sir,  next 

day! — 
The  crow  flew  'way, 

"But  jes'  next  mornin'  Peter  called  to  see 
Judy—"     "Who— Peter    Bray?"     "Yes,     Sir. 
She  said 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  87 

Sence  day  before,  her  left  arm  felt  half  dead 

And  hurted  so,  that  he 
Lanced  in  her  with  his  knife  and  soon  he 

fetched  it  free — 

Yes,  Sir,  this  button — silver,  look !    That  red 
Is  Judy's  blood  ye  see  thar.    For  the  rest 

Axe  Pete,  you'd  best." 

The  bell  stopped  ringing,  and  the  iron  hum 
Dwindled  in  quivering  echoes  on  the  air. 
The  sudden  hush  struck  all  to  silence  there. 

Some  stole  inside,  but  some 
Waited  for  Zorab.    "Whar's  the  minister?— Not 

come? 

This  sorcery  is  his  concarn.    Repair 
To  y'  pews,  my  brethren.    Steve  and  I  will  wait. 

John  Wharf  is  late.'; 

Nab  tugged  at  Stephen's  sleeve.  She  eyed  the 
Elder 

Whose  face  peered  down  the  road.  She  whis 
pered  quick: 


88  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"Don't   tell   what   we   done,    Friday   night!" 

— "Now,  chick, 
Be  I  a  fool?"    He  held  her 
Hand,  squeezing.     "Nab?"     But  Zorab  was  a 

master  welder 
Of  broken  question-marks.     He  clinched  'em, 

click, 

With  one  ear. — "Stephen  ain't  too  big  a  fool, 
Miss  Nab.    Keep  cool." 


Nab    flustered    in.    Poor    Stephen    crumpled 

under. 
"The  weather  'pears  like  storm.     It's  fearful 

hot." 
"  'T  is  so, — and  hotter  whar  there's  sin."    "I 

thought 

I  heerd  a — wa'n't  that  thunder?" 
"Heat  lightnin'  's  buzzin'  round  a  bit.    And 

whar,  I  wonder, 
IsMaster  Wharf?"     "He  might 'a  gone,  like 'snot, 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  89 

To  Tammy V    "Oh!     So  he  was  thar,  o'  Fri 
day?" 
"Yes,  Sir."    "That's  tidy 

"For  John.  And  thar  he  comes  now. — Bull  o' 
Bashan ! 

Who's  that  awalkin'  'side  of  him — not  Judy 

Rhines?"     "Yep,  that's  her!"     "Not  bringin' 

here  that  goody 
To  meetin' !    All  creation 

Won't  stand  that!    Mebbe,  though,  he'd  let  the 
Lord's  damnation 

Strike  her  right  here  in  church.     I  wonder — 
would  he? 

That  man  ye  can't  jest  put  your  finger  on. 
He's  young  yet — John." 


A  little  sullen  breeze  was  slowly  stirring 

The  smoke-bush  near  the  porch.    The  sky  was 

dun 

Above  the  belfry,  where  the  nooning  sun 
Glared  round  and  brassy.    Whirring 


90  DOGT  OWN    COMMON 

.          a 

Of  grouse  wings  drumbled  far;  and  from  the 

maples,  chirring 

Cicadas  sang. — There,  timid  as  a  nun 
With  eyelids  earthward,  Judy  came  with  her 

Pale  minister. 
"Good  morrow,  Elder  Coit."    "Good  mornin', 

Master 
Wharf."    "Good  day,  Stephen."    "  'Day,  Sir." 

John  passed  on 
And  Judy  followed.    Gabriel's  clarion 

Could  not  have  summoned  faster 
To  judgment  than  the  voice  of  Zorab:    "For  a 

pastor 
That's  late,  you  take  your  tune  this  mornin', 

John. 
And  what  might  be  your  text?"    "My  text  is 

Sin. 
Judy,— go  in." 


XI 

The  musty  gloom  struck  chill.    Slow  down  the 

aisle 
Their   black   forms  passed.    He   touched   an 

empty  pew 
And  bowed.    She  slipt  by,  seated  full  in  view 

Of  eyes  that  yield  no  smile 
Where  hers  turn  wistful.     Gaunt  he  climbed 

the  pulpit,  while 

Zorab  and  Stephen  took  dim  places.    Through 
Green  shutters  slitting  light  flecked,  and  one 

square 
Of  gold  fell  where  ....    ... 

91 


92  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

A  sash,  half  lifted,  let  in  the  hot  day. 

Gowns  rustled  faint.    A  child,  begun  to  itch, 

Squeaked,  stifled.    Through  the  hush  a  whis 
pered  "Witch" 
Flew  hissing. — "Let  us  pray ! 

Our  Father  which  art — "    The  mired   souls 
struggle  in  their  clay 

For  Power  and  Glory.    The  thin  pipe  blows  for 
pitch. 

They    sing:    "Why   do    we   mourn   departing 

friends?" 
The  first  hymn  ends. 


Now  down  the  mat  new  boots  cry  creakle-creak. 
Tom  Stacy  tiptoes,  poling  the  Lord's  platter 
Along  the  aisle.    The  penny  pieces  patter 

Like  droppings  from  the  leak 
Of  maple-sap  in  pan.    Tom  stops.    In  Judy's 

cheek 
The  bright  blood  startles. — "What  can  be  the 

matter?" 


DOGTOWNCOMMON  93 

Heads  crane  to  spy.    "She's  dropt  it  in! — 

Tarn's  niece ! 
A  shilling-piece!" 

Again  the  sudden  pitch  pipe,  shrill  and  brittle, 
Sounds  key:     "What  scenes  of  horror  and  of 

dread," 
They  sing,  "Await  the  sinner's  dying  bed!" 

They  spare  no  jot  or  tittle 
Of  wrath  to  mix  the  cauldron  brew  of  Satan's 

spittle 
To   scald   their  sinner.     Judy  thinks:    "The 

dead — 

The  dead  don't  only  bark  for  Tammy  Younger 
To  sat©  their  hunger!" 

John  Wharf  rose  up.    He  opens  the  Book  for 

gloss 
And  text.    His  eyes  gleam  out;  his  jaw  goes 

set. 

Under  his  pallor  burns  a  purpling  fret 
Of  blood  in  double  boss 


94  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

High    on    the    cheek-bone.    Tongues    buzz: 

"Scarlet — see — a  cross  I" 
"He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let 
Him  cast  the  first  stone" — "Aye,  jest  leave  me 

cast  it! 
Now  watch  'er  blast  it!" 

Crash!  the  great  Bible  skirls  in  air,  lopsiding 
Thud  on  the  treadway.    Peter's  head  sticks  in 
The  window.    "Make  that  stone  your  text  fer 

sin, 

Ye  crimpin',  Lord-abidin' 
Preach-monger ! "    Peter   grabs   the  sash;    he 

bursts  the  side  in 

And  clambers  over  tinkling  glass.    A  din 
Of  screaming  turns  the  church  aisle  to  a  bull- 
pit. 
Pete  storms  the  pulpit 

Brute-bellowing. — The     bull-roar     lulls     and 

quavers. 
The  sudden  tumult  hushes  sudden — tense. 


DOGT  OWN    COMMON  95 

Quiet  thoughts  are  armored  against  turbulence. 

Before  strong  love,  lust  wavers. — 
"Peter,  the  saving  hand  of  Christ  holds  not  a 

slaver's 
Whip,    but   a   flower — a   gray   flower.     See!" 

Pete's  sense 
Clouds.     "So,  by  God,  you'll  try  her  tricks,  is 

that  it? 
Yon  witch  is  at  it 


"Agin!     The  Devil  grab  her.     Thar  she  sits 
In  meetin'.    Be  you  God-folks  goin'  t'  allow 
A  sluttin'  witch  here?"    Zorab  Coit  stands  now 

In  pew.    His  little  slits 
Of  eyes  blaze  large.     "John  Wharf,  have  you 

clean  lost  your  wits, 

Or  aire  ye  both  blood-guilty  o'  my  dead  sow? 
If  not,  then  what  in  God's  House  doos  this 

mean?" 
"Her  soul  is  clean." 


96  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"Thar's  one  jest  way  to  clean  a  witch:  that's 

hang  'er!" 

"Her  soul  is  clean  as  mine.    If  ye  doom  her, 
Then  first  ye'll  hang  John  Wharf,  her  minister." 

"The  shillin'  minx!    I'd  slang  'er 
Up  high  as  mast'ead."    Peter  roused  new  cries 

in  clangor. 
John    raised    the    Bible   high.— "The    Book! 

Don't  stir!" 
All  eyed  him.     (Judy  crept.     None  saw  her 

thread 
The  gloom.    She  fled.) 

"The  Book  saith:     "Heaven  and  earth  shall 

pass  away 
But  My  words  shall  not  pass."— Hear  them  in 

awe: 
Love  one  another!    That  is  all  the  law 

And  prophets.    Love  is  the  Way 
Of  Christ.    This  baited  child  hath  chosen  to 

obey 
His  law,  and  will  ye  cast  her  forth?" — A  flaw 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  9? 

Of  pelt  drops  pattered  the  roof,  and  clang  of 

thunder 
Startled  their  wonder: 

"The  witch!    Where's  Judy  Rhines?"    "Haw- 
haw!"  burst  Peter, 

"Ye  heerd  that  gong  she  answered.    She's  gone 
off 

By  lightnin'  coach  to  hitch  up  fer  John  Wharf 
Housekeeping  whar  he'll  meet  'er 

On  Dogtown  Common.     Axe  John  if  makin' 
love  ain't  sweeter 

Nor    makin'    sarmons!" — Zorab    hacked    loud 
cough : 

"Tomorrer,  Master  John,  we'll  try  your  case. 
God  send  ye  grace!" 


XII 

Judy  fled  home.    The  brassy  noon  turned  night. 
Deep  in  the  charnel  sky  the  livid  worms 
Of  lightning  writhed  and  flicked.    They  coiled 
in  squirms 

Of  crawling  phosphor  light 
Swarming  the  day's  cadaver.    In  her  panting 

flight 

She  smelt  the  heavy  sea-brine,  hot  with  sperms 
Of  balsam.    Faintly  came,  far  off,  the  roar 

Of  throbbing  shore. 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  99 

Judy  sped  on.    The  blackening  woodpath  swal 
lowed 

Her  steps.     Like  frightened  child,  groping  to 
bed 

In  dark  with  candle  out,  voiceless  she  fled 
Her  fears.    Behind  her  followed 

Their  voices  singing  "scenes  of  horror  and  of 
dread." 

The  pent  dark  boomed — it  burst!     She  fell. 
She  wallowed 

In  rushing  slime.    She  rose.    Her  clothing  hung 
Soggy.    It  clung. 

Her  pained   side  fluttered  hot,   but  chilling 

shackles 
Cramped  her  faint  limbs.    The  blinding  roar 

still  surged. — 
It  lulled. — It  lifted. — Lonely  rocks  emerged 

Around  her.    Whirling  grackles 
Rose  screaking  on   the  coppery  clouds,   and 

honking  cackles 
Of  wild  geese  drifted  down.    A  fox  cub  verged 


100  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

Her    trail,    and    blinked.     His    soaked    brush 

draggled  behind. 
Meekly  he  whined 

Where  Judy  patted  him.    But  on  again 
She  fled.    At  last  the  peak  of  Tammy's  gable 
Quickened  her  climbing.    Hardly  she  was  able 

To  push  the  swollen  door  open.    Then 
She  drabbled  in,  dripping  the  boards.     "Ha! 

Wondered  when 
Ye'd  turn  up  home. — Watch  thar!    Don't  souse 

the  table. 
Ye're  soaked.    Whar  ben?    Som'ers  to  fetch  us 

eatin'?" 
"No,  Aunt:  to  meetin'." 

"Meetin' !    Not  'Squam  ways?    Not  to  Zorab's 

diggin'? 
Not   that   John   Wharf — his  preachin'   hole? 

Not  him! 
Judy,   speak   up!"    She   nodded.    "No!     I'll 

vim! 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  101 

I  wouldn't  a-stuck  a  pig  in 
That  sty — an'  you,  my  own  born  niece,  now  you 

go  priggin' 
Thar!     Now  I'm  done  with  ye!     You  kin  go 

swim 

Your  lone  at  Owl's  Head,  or  down  Kennebec, 
Aye,  drownd  your  neck 


"Alone,  fer  all  o'  me!    Ye're  drownded,  half, 
A'ready.    Sarves  ye  right. — Here,  what  y'  want 
With  them  rug  rav'lin's?    Have  'em?    No,  ye 

can't, 

No!    Hang  'em  on  that  gaff 
Agin.    And  what  had  Min'ster  John — jest  leave 

me  laugh! 
Had  John  ter  preach?"    "He  spoke  up  for  me, 

Aunt." 
"So  you  was  his  text!"    "0  Aunt,  he  spoke  for 

me! 
If  it  should  be 


102  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

"That  they  would  punish  John  Wharf,   jest 

for  sakes 

0'  me,  and  mebbe  reave  away  his  living' 
And  ban  him  too."    "Aha!    That  would  be 

givin' 

Tit  for  old  tat.    The  cakes 
Would  burn  right-side  for  onct!"    "The  only 

way  it  takes 
To   clean   a  witch,   they  said,  is  hang  her." 

"Grievin' 

Christ'ans!    Who  said  that?    Old  Zorobbabel ! 
I  jest  could  tell 

"His  tone  o'  voice. — Wall,  leave  'em  try  it. — 

Hang! 
They'd  need  ter  hang  him,  too, — John  Wharf, 

if  he 
Spoke  up  fer  you."    "Oh,  do  ye  think  't  would 

be? 

He  said  that,  too!" — A  pang 
Of  speechless  love  struck  Judy  white. — "You 

leave  him  gang 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  103 

His  own  gait.    Likes  o'  him  an'  you  don't  gee. 
If  they  could  git  you  riddance,  they'd  forgive 
John — better  believe! 

"And  John  himself  'ud  axe  grace.     He'd  deal 
ruther 

Speak  up  fer  you  at  fun'ral  than  at  meetin'. 

Oh!  don't  I  know  'em  all— the  Lord's  flock! 

Bleatin' 
Lambs! — Leaver  a  black  sheep  smother 

Chokin',   they  would,   than  rub   their  white 
washed  wool  'gin  t'other." 

Tarn  paused.    In  anger  her  tartness  drove  the 
sweet  in ; 

But  now  she  crooned:     "Leave  ?ne  for  them! 

How  could  ye, 
Judy, — my  Judy?" 

Tarn  yearned  with  trembling  fingers  to  caress 
The  gleaming  hair,  but  Judy  silently 
Stole  to  the  doorway. — "I've  forgot,"  said  she, 
"But  thar  I'll  remember."— "Yes? 


104  DOG  TOWN    COMMON 

Remember    what? — whar?"    "Over    yonder." 

"Change  your  dress 
Tore  ye  go  out.    Ye're  sopped." — "The  rowan 

tree. 
Til  find  it  in  the  ferns."     "Come  back.    It's 

drippy 
Yet."    "Aye,  't  is  slippy, 


"But  I  won't  slip,  and  I'll  be  back  afore 

Ye    guess,    mayhap — like    Granny."    "What's 

them  things 

Ye're  sayin'?    Talk  loud."    "How  good  a  tree- 
toad  sings 

After  it's  over!"    "Ye've  tore 
Your  skirt — there's  ravels  danglin'."     Tarn's 

eyes  could  not  pore 

Where  Judy  looped  the  long  rug  ravellings 
And  hid  them. — "Tell  him,  Aunt,  the  rowan 

tree, 
It's  prayin'! — He 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  105 

"Larned  it  to  pray. — How  slippy  't  is!"    "Here, 
Jude, 

Come  back!"    But  she  was  gone  from  Tammy 
— quite 

Gone  from  old  Tarn.    She  crossed  the  foot 
bridge,  light 
Of  step,  but  solitude 

Weighed  on  her  heart.    She  sobbed.    The  tree- 
toads  trilled.    She  viewed 

The  rowan  tree — the  berries  bleeding  bright. 

She   climbed.     She   slipped.    Bark   fell. — She 

choked. — It  hung. 
The  tree- toads  sung. 


XIII 

"Tarn!     Tammy    Younger!     Tarn!     Where's 
Judy?"    "Who 

Be  you,  darkin'  my  doors'll?"    "They'd  never 
have  done,  down 

There  at  the  church,  and  now  it's  after  sun 
down. 
Where's  Judy?"    "That'll  do 

Fer  axin',  Master  Wharf.    Now  you  kin  tell  me 
—you! 

Whar's  Judy?"     "Tain!"     "Come,  'fore  your 
weights  all  run  down, 

Strike  time,  and  tell."     "/  don't  know,  Tarn. 

Did  she—? 
The  rowan  tree—?" 

106 


DOGTOWN    COMMON  107 

"Aye,  them's  her  words.    Tell  him  it's  prayinV 

she  said, 
'He   lamed   it   to   pray.' — To   think   I   never 

guesst 
Her  him  was  you!"    "The  rowan  tree!"    He 

presst 

His  closed  eyes.    "  'They're  so  red — - 
The  berries!' — That's  what  I  heard  her  sobbing, 

when  I  fled 
Those  devils,  to  find  her.    Lord!  dear  God!" 

— "Ye'd  best 
Call    God.    He    likes    when    dead    folks—" 

"Don't!     Don't  say—" 
John  fled  away. 


The  footbridge  creaked  and  swung.    He  felt  the 

path 
Downward  with  slipping  feet.  Red  dusk  was 

still. 
Faintly  a  barking  mocked  the  tree-toad's  trill. — 


108  DOGTOWN    COMMON 

aO,  tell  it  not  in  Gath— 
My  love!  my  love!" — The  forest  dripped  with 

ghostly  aftermath 

Of  tempest.    Ghostly  called  the  whippoorwill. 
Dim   cardinal   flowers  flecked   the  pool  with 

blood. 
He  heard  the  thud 

Of  partridge  wings.    He  stood  in  crinkled  fern. 
On  twilit  branches  rowan  berries  clung 
Red-pale, — red-dark  a  drooping  shadow  hung. 

He  knelt.    He  did  not  turn 
His  eyes  away,  for  round  it  now  began  to  yearn 
A  yellow-golden  light.    It  built.    It  flung 
A  budding  whiteness  forth — as  petals,  first 

In  April,  burst 

Their  gummy  shards  to  let  the  crocus  blow. 
It  bloomed — a  bodied  glory.    Its  glory  threw 
Forth  slender  limbs  and  glimmering  hair.    It 

grew 
In  beauty,  till  the  glow 


DOGTOWN   COMMON  109 

Of  Judy's  eyes  shone  down,  and  Judy's  voice 

called:    "So 
Ye've  come,  my  love,  my  Lord !    Dear  Christ — 

't  is  you!" 
John  rose. — He  cried  aloud  through  quivering 

vines: 
"Dear  love!    0  Judy  Rhines!" 


In  old  Cape  Ann,  near  Gloucester  by  the  sea, 
The  summer  pilgrim  climbs  the  Dogtown  track. 
By  slender-falling  water  he  rests  his  pack 

Under  a  glimmering  tree. 
He  smells  faint  fragrance  there.    He  watches  a 

wild  bee 

Sipping  a  small  gray  flower.    It  stores  its  sack 
With  honey  dew  for  dark  of  thirst  and  fasting — 

Life  Everlasting. 


110  DOG  TOWN    COMMON 


NOTE 

From  a  little  volume,  by  Charles  E.  Mann, 
entitled  "In  the  Heart  of  Cape  Ann"  (Glouces 
ter,  Mass.,  the  Procter  Bros.  Co.),  the  curious 
reader  may  learn  many  strange,  half-forgotten 
facts  concerning  the  old  Puritan  life  of  that 
region.  Among  its  singular  New  England  char 
acters,  certain  authentic  and  legendary  figures 
have  entered  into  the  theme  of  this  poem. 

P.  M-K. 

Miami  University, 
Oxford,  Ohio. 
March,  1921. 


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